Okay, so now the entire school would know and I’d have to deal with the pity thing, but the fact was it happened and nothing would ever erase that. I was different because of it. I’d lost my spoiled little girl innocence and grew up a little bit earlier than I would have.
But ultimately, that’s what it’s all about. Facing facts. Learning that there is no perfect time, that adults don’t have it easier, and that you’d gladly stay young if you could get back the illusion that Daddy could keep you safe.
If my little oration made some of them a little more aware when they started driving, all the better. I still didn’t think I’d ever be able to get behind the wheel myself, but I was glad I took the class.
Chapter Thirteen
There’d been whispers and some finger pointing after the driving class, but for the most part it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Somehow we managed to get through the whole session and go on with business as usual. A few of the more grisly minded who heard the story second hand came right out and asked me about it. I gave them the same pat answers I gave after the accident and pulled back my hair to one side to show the remnants of my little scar.
I was like the female Harry Potter. The girl who lived.
Stupid really the way people reacted when they realized everyone else in an accident bought it but you. And to be honest, there are times when I wonder if my living hadn’t been so accidental. Like maybe there was a purpose.
It wasn’t on my mind at the moment though. I was just waiting for Berkley, watching out my bedroom window when I saw her mom’s car drive up.
The surprising thing was Berkley got out the driver’s side. Well that settled that question. I wondered when she’d get her permit, but I figured it’d take longer to set up an appointment.
Berkley’s mom stepped out of the passenger’s side and shakily walked around the car. Even from the window it was obvious she wasn’t as confident in her daughter’s driving skills as Berkley was.
Berkley gave her mother a big hug as she handed off the keys and ran toward the house like a kid. Her mom slipped in the car and was still sitting there when Berkley burst into the room shrieking, “I did it.”
“I saw you drive up. Good job, I didn’t even know it wasn’t your mom until I saw you get out of the car.”
She flopped down on the crummy old beanbag chair and stretched out her arms and legs while her head hung back. “I don’t get it. I drove really slowly, but the car could have been in neutral for all she noticed. She was still terrified.”
She lifted her head so she could see me while she spoke. “I don’t get it because I know she trusts me and she knows how responsible I am.”
I couldn’t believe she still didn’t comprehend. Berkley was smarter than that. She should have understood it was the other guy her mother was afraid of. But for some reason she didn’t, so I changed the subject.
“So, was it difficult? The road test, I mean.” As I said it I tried to imagine getting in the driver’s side and turning the key. My stomach lunged just thinking about it.
“I did well. Really well. The guy that took me out said I was very conscientious.” She smiled but it was fleeting and replaced by a look I knew too well. She looked down toward my bedspread and started picking at a piece of lint. “I’m sorry, Salem. I never should have forced you to take that class.”
“It’s okay, really.” She’d apologized a million times since that first class and I kept trying to reassure her without getting into a big drawn out discussion, but it looked like the only way she’d stop was if we actually talked it out.
“No, it’s not,” she interrupted. “I understood about the accident. I knew you lost your dad, but still, it wasn’t real until you started talking in class. I felt sick listening to the details of what happened, so I can’t imagine how you live with it day to day.” Her eyes filled with liquid guilt.
“A lot of people you know lost someone they love. People die every day.” And it was the truth. I hadn’t cornered the market on loss.
“It’s not the same as when it’s an accident and you’re in the car with them when it happens.”
She was right in one way but wrong in another. I mean each situation is different, but in each case you still end up losing someone you love. “Maybe. I’m not sure. Who’s to say it’s any better to watch a parent suffer for months just to watch them wither away.” Death sucked no matter how it happened.
“Are you talking about Robby?” She sat up a bit, alert, watching my reactions.
“Sure. Him and everyone else in the same situation. I mean it doesn’t matter how it happens. Gone is gone and there’s always regrets no matter what.”
And that was the point. There was no preparing for death. Robby might have had a head’s up, but he was no more prepared for the finality of it than I was.
“I guess so. I just feel crappy that I pushed you to take the class.”
I could help her here and it made me feel good. “I’m actually glad you did. In a strange sort of way it was healing. My shrink was thrilled.” And he had been. Proud that is. He considered it a breakthrough.
And it was. I’d been blaming myself for living. Deep down I knew I hadn’t caused the accident, the drunk that hit us had. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Except push my mother away after it happened.
That was the only thing I was going to need to come to terms with. It’s not that I wanted to hurt her. I didn’t. It’s just Dad was always in the middle with his ‘girls’ on either side. Maybe I just felt like Mom was trying to fill his space. And it bugged me.
I mean, I love her – but as Mom. I don’t want her to try to be Dad too. That’s a space she shouldn’t try to fill. But since I recognized it, I was determined to be more thoughtful of her feelings.
Berkley wrinkled her nose and I could tell she was rating the shrink ‘eww’ factor. “That must be tough seeing Robby’s dad like that.”
Talk about an understatement. Having a shrink at all managed to make the top ten list of why my life bites. But then add in the fact that he’s Robby’s dad. I mean, really. How many shrinks have the added pleasure of a patient dating one of their children? Not many, I’m sure.
“Sort of. Okay, so it’s freaky weird. But I like him and he’s pretty cool. I just haven’t told him any of my extra problems,” I said making little quotation mark gestures with my fingers around the word extra.
“You haven’t told him that you’re psychic?” Berkley acted like I was going into a confessional and leaving out my biggest sin.
“Um, hello, I’m dating his son. I mean I want help dealing with the accident. That’s normal. But my other issues, well…” How do you tell a shrink, someone with access to the psycho ward that you’re the girl with something extra?
“He’s a professional,” she said like I’d somehow missed something important.
That was one of the few problems with Berkley; she was a little too absorbed with titles and degrees. More knowledge didn’t always help the situation. That depended on the type of information the individual had.
“Salem, he’s a professional,” she said again like I missed it the first time.
Oh sure, like that mattered. It only made the situation worse. “He’s a doctor, you know, medical, … science, not likely to believe in fortune tellers.” I had thought this was a no brainer.
“But so much of what you’re dealing with really centers around your psychic dreams,” she persisted. “What’s the matter? You look strange.” She stood up and walked over to the window where I was standing and looked out.
“I am strange. That’s the point.” As my biggest advocate she was about to protest but I kept talking. “And I haven’t had a chance to tell you the latest.”
I paused to get up the courage to say it out loud. Berkley waited patiently while my vocal cords mustered up the strength. “Remember the sound? You thought it might be popcorn. Well it’s not. It’s my mom. I saw her get shot.”
For all the good it did. She didn’t get that my mother refused to acknowledge her daughter wasn’t traditionally normal. Well that wasn’t true. She did believe the psychic part, just not when it applied to her. “Yeah, I told her but she still doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m just afraid I’ll lose her too.”
Berkley glanced away in contemplation then twirled a strand of hair around and around until I thought she’d pull it out. I kept quiet while she worked out her conclusion. “Could she be right?” she finally asked.
Thanks for the vote of confidence. I hadn’t anticipated her siding with my mother. Don’t you just love it when your own friends question you? “No. She’s not right about this.”
“I hoped for your sake there was something to what your mother said. So not even the remotest possibility?”
She wanted me to be wrong. Hell, I wanted me to be wrong. I shook my head. “No. I know the difference between a regular dream and one of my sightings.”
In spite of the seriousness of the conversation the corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. “Sighting? It sounds like you’re talking about Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster.”
I had to laugh. Only Berkley would point out how crazy the other things sounded while at the same time believing in ghosts and psychics.
“I might as well be since I can’t get a handle on it. But I’m not sure what else to call it and that’s what it reminds me of. I see a picture in my head, kind of a digital camera shot. Sometimes it’s a still and others there’s a few seconds of movement like in video. Then other times it’s more of a slide show, only fast.”
And that’s what it was like. A little bit different every time, making it that much more difficult to master.
Twirling that same piece of hair into a death grip, Berkley finally announced, “You need to tell Robby’s dad.”
No, now if there was one thing I didn’t need, it was that. “I can’t.”
Unfortunately, when she thinks she’s right, Berkley can be a bit of a bulldog. “You need to. Maybe he can help.”
“Sure. Help send me to an institution. Um, I’m not exactly dying to find out how electric shock therapy feels.” As much as I liked Robby’s dad and respected him I also knew it wasn’t in his nature to believe in my type of ability. He was one hundred percent science.
She closed in on me and stood only about a foot away, her eyes imploring, looking directly into my mine. “So bring the video camera.”
She lost me there for a minute. What could the video camera have to do with my ability?
“Show him the hair ribbon hanging in space. Tell him about your grandmother. You’ve got to try.”
I almost laughed out loud. Yeah, right. Talk about making an impression. “Great, tell him not only that I’m psychic, but I hear dead people? Think about it Berkley.”
I put my hands up to my head and started to massage my temples as I paced. They were starting to throb. She was right though. I had to do something; I just wasn’t sure Dr. Martin was the answer.
****
I stood outside the door with my finger raised and perched above the bell. Sooner or later I’d have to press it. But then I needed to decide about my dilemma before I entered the house. Who to tell? Robby? Dr. Martin? Or the other choice – tell no one. Figure out my problems on my own. That was probably the best thing I could do. I was still debating the issue – eeny, meeny, miny, moe – when the door opened.
“Dr. Martin.” There was no question about it. He caught me standing there like a brainless idiot.
“Hi, come on in. Robby’s upstairs.” He stepped out of the way for me to enter. “Hold on, I’ll call him.”
My intellect went out the window and instinct took over. I needed help and I needed an adult on my side. Well, a live one anyway. The dead ones didn’t always answer when you called. “No, wait. I do want to see him, but I was hoping I could talk to you first. I know it’s not a scheduled appointment…”
“You can talk to me any time.” He placed his hand on my shoulder more dad-like than shrink-like. It gave me a small dose of courage and I thought I might actually be able to get through my outing.
He smiled reassuringly. “I thought I’d hear from you and I think I know what’s bothering you.”
This was going to be interesting. If he could guess this one then he was even more psychic than I was.
“You’ll be expected to take the road test now that the course is completed. And you should, even though I know you don’t want to.”
Okay, random, and so way off base. No psychic ability on his part. “I can’t. That’s something I just can’t do.”
He ran his hand through his hair and traces of gray became more visible. “You didn’t think you could take the class and look how well that turned out.” He smiled again, the ‘you can do it’ kind of smile that’s supposed to give confidence.
It didn’t. I cursed my luck. How could we have ended up having this conversation when there were other more important issues that needed to be addressed? “This is different.”
“I know. This will be much more difficult to conquer, but eventually you must. If you don’t it’ll ruin your life.”
If I don’t get some help now my life will be ruined anyway. Fear, like an army of ants at a picnic, started nipping at me until my composure was completely gone. “I hate being in cars with anyone. But the thought of being in control…”
“That’s understandable and you might not ever enjoy it. But what if you have to? You can’t spend your entire life not driving. What about when you’re older and have children? What if you had to take one of them to the doctor’s office? Are you going to rely on someone else? Take a taxi?”
Okay, so the guy did make sense. I mean, I’m not exactly stupid, I did understand what being a non-driver would mean to an adult. I could feel the tears start to well in the back of my eyes. It’s not like I’d ever be up for this debate, but I was so not up for it now.
“You can’t let it control you. Take the test, Salem. Just because you have your license doesn’t mean you have to drive. It just means you can when you decide to. Just a few minutes behind the wheel and you’ll have that option.”
Just when I was about to lose it Robby rounded the corner of the room. “Salem.” His smile froze as he looked at his dad and me.
“I was just talking to your dad.” Yup, state the obvious. Sometimes I was so like my mother.
“Seems a little intense in here,” he said as he frowned at his father. Oh great, now he’d be mad at his dad. And he shouldn’t be, this was doctor-patient business.
“I was trying to convince Salem to take the road test and get her license.”
“I’m sure she will when she’s ready,” he argued. Oh yeah, he was so itching for a fight with his dad. This wasn’t all about me, but I wasn’t helping their relationship at all.
I quickly changed the subject. “So are you going to paint me or what? I’ve got my dress,” I said as I pointed to the plastic zip-up clothing sheath draped over the table.
Robby picked it up and handed it to me.
“Bathroom is down the hall to the left,” Dr. Martin said.
Robby rolled his eyes since it certainly wasn’t the first time I’d been at his house. Maybe he just had the need to say something that didn‘t have anything to do with what we were arguing about.
My mama didn’t raise no fool. I high-tailed it down the hall so fast my feet barely touched the floor. Then I locked myself in the bathroom so I could change and think while I was doing it. Well, that certainly didn’t go as planned. I anticipated problems, but I never thought we wouldn’t even get to the topic.
I put on the dress and zipped it as high as I could. I’d need Robby to zip the last bit at the top. Then I used a large barrette and pinned it in the back of my hair so that most of it was held u
p off my neck but long tendrils hung down while smaller ones cascaded around my face.
I looked like her. A lot like her. There would be no way to know the two portraits were of two different people. I took one last look and a deep breath before walking out of the bathroom.
Robby had already gone out to the studio so I hitched up the bottom of my dress so it wouldn’t get dirty and held my backpack with my other clothes in it over my shoulder.
Robby turned toward me when I opened the door and the look on his face was unbelievable. If I didn’t know better I’d have thought that some movie star or celebrity had just walked in.
But then again, I forgot, today I was the muse.
He set me up where he wanted me, zipped up the top of my dress, and finished setting up his paints. Then he went to his Ipod in the corner of the room and rather than the music he normally played when we were out, classical music filled the air.
At first I was surprised, but not when he started painting. He didn’t speak and there was an intensity, a focus in his expression that demanded quiet like a test taking sign.
It didn’t matter though; I was comfortable, almost taken away by the moment. Peace. Contentment.
At least for the first few minutes.
I’m not sure when things began to change it was that subtle. One second I was perfectly content and life was good. Then the next… I began to feel edgy, nervous.
The light from the sun that had been so welcome and charming a few minutes ago started to flick past my eyes and cause shadows. Images immerged until the room wasn’t there as it had been, but instead what I saw was entirely inside my head.
I could vaguely hear Robby as if in a distant echo. “Salem, is the sun in your eyes?”
When I realized he had asked me the same question more than once I finally answered. “Um, no, sorry I just sort of dazed out there for a moment.”
I needed to stay focused. This wasn’t the time or the place to have to admit to Robby that I wasn’t the ordinary teen.
He went back into artist mode and his focus was on the portrait. That didn’t mean I could retreat back into my own subconscious. I needed to keep my head in the present. If I didn’t Robby would know something was up.
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